


Parallax

by Xyriath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (They're werewolves. they eat deer.), Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Animal Death, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 08:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13290930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: Cast out into the wilderness under circumstances beyond their control, two souls have been left fighting a feral hunger and starving for more than just food. The call of the full moon is strong, but when fate sets their paths in line, they rediscover in each other what it means to be human.





	Parallax

_He was so hungry._

He staggered through the sparse wastelands of the Desolation, wilderness as far as the eye could see.  Even more frightening, he heard nothing, _smelled_ nothing, nothing but the same scenery he had wandered through for the past two weeks.  True, he scented plenty of vegetation, scraggly and dry as it might be, but that wouldn’t do.  Not for him.

He needed meat.

He _wanted_ to hunt, to chase something living into exhaustion, to corner it, to smell its fear, to sink his jaws into its neck, to feel the life drain from its body as it gave its final feeble kicks.  Right now, however, he barely had the energy to walk, let alone to put into a full hunt.  At this point, even rotten carrion would do.  Rotten carrion would be a _blessing._

The stones underneath his paws dug into the pads, cracked and raw from the dryness that pervaded his entire body.  His tongue lolled out like a dog’s as he panted frantically, trying to catch his breath.  It never seemed to come.

And then he inhaled and smelled it.

The scent of something warm.  Moving.   _Alive._

He closed his mouth over tacky gums, ears swiveling in the direction from which he had caught the scent.  Closer than he had realized.  His hunger had dulled his senses, left him unable to notice so much that he should have.

But that was about to change.

Throwing back his head, he let loose a howl, cracked and hoarse as it was.

As it died away into the distance, the sinewy black wolf gathered its last remnants of energy and galloped its way towards its prey.

—

The vegetation grew thicker as he continued his trek, and after a point, it might have been considered a forest.  He never would have been able to get this far if he hadn’t scented prey; it had pushed him into his second wind, sending him further on this hunt than he had ever been before.  He might even be able to find a water source here, if he stayed long enough, but the more prosperous an area, the more likely it had been claimed already.

But that was not important yet.  For now, the hunt.

Indeed, as he found his way closer, he began to smell running water as well.  Prey would need to drink, too.  When he was nearly close enough to see and be seen, he dropped to a crouch, slowly slinking forward through the trees.

The prey came into sight just before the stream did, and he couldn’t believe his luck.

The creature in front of him had two legs, not four, and would undoubtedly be easy to catch in a chase.  It didn’t have wings, either, just two...

 _Arms._  The word came to him with a sense of familiarity that he didn’t recognize.  The form of the creature left a similar sensation within him, and for a moment, he wondered...

But he quickly dismissed it.  Wolves don’t wonder.

He crept closer, watching for the opportune moment.  The creature knelt, dipping its arms in the water, then bringing them up to its face.  Drinking.  Vulnerable.  Delicious.

The muscles in his legs tensed, and he leaped.

Though in his weakened state he couldn’t reach his target, desperation fueled his movement, and he had cleared half of the remaining distance before his prey had finished standing.  It spun when it spotted him, at the same time staggering backwards, and as he closed in, it let out a piercing, painful shriek.

He hadn’t expected the noise, and its intensity left him flinching and faltering for the briefest of moments.  Still, that gave his prey the moment it needed to turn and run.

With a growl, part thrill and part annoyance, he lunged forward again, giving chase.

Although his prey proved to be driven by an admirable urge of self-preservation, it stood no chance, even in his weakened state.  He caught up to it without much trouble, and he let out a triumphant snarl as his jaws sunk into its leg.

Another shriek ripped free of its mouth, this one of pain, and tumbled to the ground.  He could taste the warm deliciousness of flesh as the hot blood splashed into his mouth.  But he couldn’t stop to revel in it now.  Once he finished, he could eat.  Now, he had to kill.

He released the leg, unable to resist a brief lick of his muzzle, the first blood he had tasted in far too long.  He went for the throat.

Without warning, a huge, solid mass crashed into him.

He let out a yelp of pain and anger as the force sent him skidding across the forest floor.  He tried to shove himself to his feet, defend himself against his attacker, but he had barely managed to get his footing when the attacker slammed into him again.  This time, he caught sight of a great white wolf, at least twice his size, as it shoved him to the ground.  This time, a massive set of teeth buried themselves in the scruff of his neck.

He yelped again, trying to wrench away.  Even as he struggled, he now smelled what he had missed in his preoccupation with the hunt: wolves.  More of them.  A full pack.

He needed to flee.  He couldn’t fight an entire pack; he wasn’t going to die over this prey, no matter how hungry he might be.  If the pack wanted it, they could have it.  They might very well leave behind bones he could pick through.

The jaw around his scruff loosened, but before he could flee, the teeth once again latched onto him: this time, in his throat.

He went still, waited for the movement that would end his life.

“Shiro, no!  His eyes, look at his eyes!”

The prey.  It should have fled by now, or tried.  And he could... understand it, for some reason.

Wolves didn’t wonder.  But... why?

Though the pressure around his throat vanished, he didn’t dare move, not with the sound of the pack members now surrounding him.  White flashed in front of him, and he twisted his head to the side to get a better look.

He had been correct in his earlier estimate of the white wolf being twice his size.  And unlike him, its pelt was glossy, its form thick, all signs of eating well.

And then he met those eyes.

Those eyes, gray and fierce and intelligent, with an intensity that left him burning.  He wanted to look away, but found himself unable.

You are not a mindless animal.

The thought rang inside his mind—not clear speech, as the prey’s had been to his ears, but as if he had thought it himself.  But the tone felt... different.  Off.  Not quite his own.

You’re trapped.  This isn’t you.  Fight it.

Fight _what?_  He hunched in on himself as the white wolf stepped closer, then pressed its nose to his shoulder.

Fight _this._  You’re more than this.  Stronger.  We know what it’s like, how easy it is to lose yourself.  We believe in you, and we want to help.

We.  We?  He didn’t understand, he didn’t—

And then he felt the tug.

It startled him, the strength of it, and as he tentatively explored it, the nature became clearer: they were pulling at him, all of the wolves present, asking him to join them.  He knew what this was, even if he had never experienced it before.  This was a pack-call.

But—damn, it divided him more painfully than he could have ever expected.  The pack promised him stability, camaraderie, safety, food.  But in turn, it warred with the independence so important to him, the deep connection he had to his wolf nature.  To being free.  Something inside him knew that if he gave in to their call, he would never have that again.

The white wolf—Shiro, he thought, surprise rocking through him at the realization that the name meant something—stepped closer.  This time, Shiro knelt and pressed their shoulders together, leaning up against him.  A warm, comforting presence he found himself craving.

Come with us.  Be one of us.  We have a place for you.

He hunched in on himself further, uncertainty churning inside him.

Let us take care of you.

The pleading, the sincerity, the _compassion_ in the request, all painfully foreign to him, hooked into him, drew him forward.  The warmth of Shiro against his shoulder burned in a desperate, longing way, and he could feel himself weaken.

No one had ever wanted to take care of him before.

He felt himself sag.  Into Shiro, into the pack-call.  And he let go.

As he did, he felt more presences appear around him.  The steady, solid sun of Shiro.  A wary, cautious wolf.  One that practically sang of energy and anticipation.  Even the pained anxiety of... the prey?

He lost count after five, but reveled in all of them.

And now he was there, in the middle of them.  One of them.  He was Keith, and Keith was... so much more.  So much that he had forgotten.  So much that he had lost.

With a ragged gasp, he felt his knees give way as the sensation of personhood overwhelmed him.

But before he could completely collapse, a strong pair of arms wrapped around his naked, human frame.

And as Keith’s new pack leader knelt and held him close, murmuring soft words of comfort, Keith allowed himself to weep in relief.

—

The specifics of his memories didn’t return with his human form.  Shiro couldn’t tell him if they ever would.

“You lose a lot, without a pack to ground you,” he explained gently as he helped Keith take small sips of water to treat his dehydration.  “I don’t know when or if you’ll ever recover fully.  But if your story is anything like ours, you were probably thrown out of one of the cities when you were infected.  Without a pack, the wolf form has a strength that is hard to resist.  It often takes over.  And as you’ve seen, out here that can get you killed.”

Keith didn’t bother responding, simply continued to sip.  Whatever had happened before didn’t matter.  He had a pack now.  He had a leader, one who had saved him from a life of feral mindlessness.  Though Shiro no longer held Keith tightly to his chest, he still kept an arm around him, allowing Keith to press into his side.

“Pidge has the opposite problem, actually.  She was recently turned, and her attachment to her humanity means that she can’t make the change as easily as the rest of us yet.  Being a were is a balance between the two sides of yourself, and we’re all here to help each other through that.  Even so, I’d recommend against changing back for a while.  Being stuck can be... hard to recover from, and I’d hate to see you lose the progress you’ve already made.”

Keith simply nodded.  He could still feel the call of his wolf form, but far stronger was his immense distaste for being unable to control himself.  He didn’t want to remember that sort of helplessness, his slavery to his instincts.

A scraping sound came from behind him, and he whirled to see two wolves dragging the massive corpse of a deer behind them.  The smaller one, with a light brown coat, seemed to be trying to pull it faster than he could manage.  The second, a darker brown, occasionally eyed Keith out of the corner of his eye.  Pidge, who Keith had attacked earlier, had managed to regain her ginger wolf shape and was now lying next to another female, mottled dark brown and white, who was licking the spot Keith had savaged.

Keith would apologize later.  For now, he turned his attention back to the deer, his mouth watering.

It was torture to watch the two wolves bite into the meal, watch delicious-smelling strips of meat be pulled from the bones, and he had to force down an unexpected urge to change back and stake his claim on some of the food.  But his patience finally paid off as the two wolves—Lance and Hunk, Keith remembered—brought several pieces over to Shiro.

“Thank you,” Shiro replied quietly as he accepted the offering.  “Once you’ve had your fill, make sure to share with the others.”

As they retreated, Shiro turned and handed Keith a strip.  “You’ve been starving for a while.  Make sure to eat slowly, or you’ll make yourself sick.”

Though torturous to obey, Keith did nonetheless, and it was only Shiro’s order that kept him from immediately gorging himself.  As a wolf, he was no stranger to raw meat, and his stomach informed him that cooking would take far too long.

So he ate, and he watched Shiro.

Unlike Keith, Shiro could apparently perform the tricky task of retaining clothing through the change.  Though somewhat worn, the jeans and t-shirt fit him well, their slight snugness emphasizing his larger form.  Above it, a kind, handsome face rested in a near smile, those gray eyes keeping sharp watch over his pack.  A scar slashed over the bridge of his nose and, in contrast to the black of most of his hair, a white forelock fell into his face.  Keith also hadn’t missed the sight of his right arm, something he hadn’t even registered as a wolf, shiny and metal, foreign to this wilderness.  Something in it reminded him of the cities, tall and shining and gleaming, but any recollection of those was fuzzy at best, and he put the thoughts aside.  Shiro was here now, and whatever had happened couldn’t be changed.  Wolves didn’t wonder.

Shiro, catching sight of Keith staring, tilted his head.  “Hmm?”

Keith merely shook his own, reflecting on what the pack-sense had shared with him since joining.

Though a strong leader, good and wise and kind, Shiro led alone.

Still, Shiro’s wolves followed without question.  Eight of them, all fiercely loyal, and from what Keith had seen, that loyalty was well-earned.  He not only protected his pack, but he listened to his members, took their thoughts into consideration before making decisions.  And he made sure that even the newest, most useless member of the pack was taken care of.

Perhaps it was the remnants of his animal impulses.  Perhaps an attachment to the one who had saved him, fed him, helped him.

It was _certainly_ influenced by the fact that Shiro represented everything Keith wanted, and that after all his time he could remember, this was the first time he had met someone who did.

Either way, Keith had already made up his mind.  He would prove himself to Shiro.  And Shiro would choose Keith as his mate.

—

Shiro tilted his head back, watching the sky as the stars continued to appear.  The sinking sun left the west a riotous display of color, and Shiro knew that it cast a soft, orange glow on his own white fur.

Satisfied that no threat to his territory and pack was immediately apparent, he turned and trotted back down the hill, changing back as he went.  Normally he would have preferred sleeping in wolf form, now that the weather was growing colder as summer faded into fall, but he had more pressing concerns at the moment.

As he stepped into the clearing where the pack had settled for the evening, Keith lifted his head.  Shiro felt a swell of pride when he saw the Keith was still wearing his pants.

Though becoming a were tended to significantly lessen expectations of modesty—in fact, Lance knelt naked in front of the fire right now, needing his hands to tend to it and not feeling like bothering to get dressed to do it, and even Pidge had lost much of her initial hesitation to be unclothed around her packmates—clothing still proved to be an effective means of grounding yourself in human form.  Something about wearing pants made it that much harder to forget that you were a human, to allow your instincts to drag you back into your wolf shape.

Keith generally avoided shirts, and he flat out refused shoes, but in the months since joining the pack, Keith had acquiesced to the pants without too much fuss.  There had been the occasional mishap, usually around the full or nearly full moon, but Keith had put impressive effort into his control, and Shiro couldn’t have been prouder.

He sank down next to Keith on the bedding, heather topped with furs and then covered with a sheet.  Though they might be stuck in the wilderness, Shiro had done his best to ensure that his pack had whatever comforts they could.  They had a few odds and ends stolen from the human world and stored in the cave that was their den in harsher weather, and Shiro had tapped into it to ensure that while Keith might have to stay a human, he wouldn’t have to be miserable.

“Good to have you back,” Keith murmured as he pressed his shoulder into Shiro.  Though Shiro had expected the raspiness of Keith’s voice to fade as he began to talk more, apparently it was simply an inherent trait.

“It’s good to be back.”  Shiro lifted an arm to wrap it around Keith.  He knew that sleeping as a human had to be the hardest part; he could feel the call of the moon already, and couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Keith, who had succumbed to it for what, at this point, seemed like might have been years.

“Safe?” Keith asked, expression serious.  Though new, he treated the well-being of the pack with at least as much gravity as Shiro.  Though Shiro had no desire to weigh him down with the burdens of leadership, even as much as talking into a sympathetic ear might do, at least not so soon after rediscovering his humanity, at some point in the future he might very well turn to Keith for assistance.  After all, no one else particularly wanted the responsibility.

“Yes.  Thank you.”  Shiro squeezed Keith for a moment before releasing him.  They would curl around each other later, Shiro’s human presence yet another grounding point for Keith, but Shiro didn’t want to push.  Not for... not for anything else.

He swallowed and turned back to Keith, smiling gently.  “And what about you?  Settled in?”

Keith nodded, returning the smile with a faint one of his own.  “Better, now that you’re here.”  As if he didn’t notice the surprised and slightly sheepish expression that crossed Shiro’s face, he turned, taking something from the ground beside them.  When he faced Shiro again, he held out a deck of cards, expression pleading.

Shiro couldn’t resist a grin.

“Of course.”

The two of them settled into a game of Castle of Lions, Keith’s favorite.  It required strategy, quick thinking, and a small bit of luck, and Keith had quickly grown quite good.  Shiro was still better, of course, with years of practice from his days before he was turned, but Keith had been the only one that Shiro had met in quite some time able to put up a challenging fight.

“Tricky,” he said immediately when Shiro made one of his better strategical moves.  When Shiro glanced up, however, Keith’s expression was impassive.  He never could quite read him as a human, and he wasn’t sure if Keith had some plan in mind to counter...

He, of course, didn’t realize that he had been unsettlingly and expertly played with the distraction until Keith set down a card several turns later with a wicked grin.

“Leader can’t even win?”

Shiro shot him a glare of fond exasperation out of the corner of his eye, trying not to smile at the clear mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Maybe I’m just letting you win because you’re new,” Shiro shot back.

“Not that good.”  Keith’s dismissal nearly sent Shiro flying up into a tree—or maybe it was the cocky, almost sultry smirk with which he said it, glancing up at Shiro with dark purple eyes under long lashes.  “Could tell.”

Shiro shook himself, playing another card without putting much thought into it, too determined to move past this—whatever this interaction was with his sanity intact.  “Could tell what?”

“If you lost on purpose.”

Shiro drew back, feeling vaguely offended, as ridiculous as he recognized the sensation to be.  “Well, maybe you wouldn’t be able to.”

Keith just let out a bark of laughter, and Shiro found himself sulking, just a little.  Keith reached out, patting Shiro’s knee sympathetically, that wicked grin still on his face.

“Don’t worry.  What was the word...”  He trailed off, glancing over, and his eyes landed on Lance.  He wrinkled his nose slightly, but then turned back.  “Charming.”

“I—”  Shiro choked momentarily, hoping that the flickering of the firelight hid the heat rushing to his face.  “What?”

“Can’t lie at all.  Honest.   _Too_ honest.  Charming,” Keith repeated, this time with a firmness in his voice.  “And too easy to distract.”

He pointed down at the arrangement of their cards, and as Shiro blinked down at them, he realized he had been completely and utterly played into a corner.

With a resigned sigh, turned his deck sideways in a concession.

Smug as anything, Keith let out a little wiggle that would have wagged his tail if he had had one.  Shiro offered a rueful smile.

“You played well tonight.  I need to watch myself better.”

“You do,” Keith agreed without hesitation, direct as always.  “You made a few mistakes, at the end.  But playing perfectly is hard.”  He finished putting the cards back into their deck, running his fingers around the edges, an act that Shiro had noticed him do before and suspected he found comforting.  Wrapping them in their tie, Keith settled down into the bed, then turned back up to Shiro and held his arms out demandingly.

With the slightest hesitation, Shiro laid down.

The call of the moon had grown stronger, but with Keith’s warm presence against him, he found no trouble in pushing it away.  He could only hope that Keith felt the same.

His pack settled in around him, Shiro closed his eyes and slept.

—

“I still don’t see why I have to learn any of this,” Keith muttered, nose wrinkling in a cranky way that just looked that much more adorable.  “Four legs and a nose does way better than... any of this bullshit.”

“Yes, we are better hunters in our wolf forms, but you’re doing your best to avoid returning to your wolf shape at the moment.  There are also times where you might not be able to—stress, panic, pressure, or simply meeting humans from the cities who would try to kill you if they knew what you were.  In that case, you would need to conceal your nature from them.  In the event that you find yourself in trouble and, for whatever reason, you can’t change back, you’ll have all of this at your disposal.”

Keith grumbled something that Shiro didn’t try to catch, but he didn’t continue to argue.  Shiro also didn’t mention that knowing how to hunt as a human curbed the decidedly feral nature of the act, providing a level of control over the hunt that didn’t exist in a wolf only going by instinct.

“Now, remember.  Patience yields focus.  Take a deep breath, calm your mind, and take a look around.”

Though Shiro expected a little more arguing, Keith immediately quieted and cast his eyes to the ground.

It only took a couple more minutes for him to spot what Shiro had immediately: a few sprigs of rushes, crooked at an angle from where something had passed by not long ago.  His eyes lit up and, without saying anything, he pointed, looking to Shiro for approval.  Shiro beamed at him, nodding, and they continued to make their way through the undergrowth.

Keith spotted the next few signs of the prey almost as quickly as Shiro did: the droppings, the rubbings, and even a hoofprint.  As they grew closer, Shiro held up a hand, and Keith nodded as he slowed, picking through the forest quietly.

When they finally caught sight of the deer, Keith froze even before Shiro touched his elbow.  The buck was completely unaware of their presence, and at Shiro’s nod, Keith lifted the bow and nocked an arrow.  While Shiro refused to waste precious bullets on training Keith to shoot, Keith had at least taken to the handmade bows they had taught themselves to make some time ago.

As Keith drew, the buck’s head snapped up, looking in their direction.

Shiro held his breath, eyes flicking back to watch Keith instead.  Keith didn’t seem to notice, too focused on the deer, and his lips moved silently, mouthing something that took Shiro a moment to realize the meaning of.

_Patience yields focus._

Shiro’s heart nearly seemed to burst with anticipation as Keith waited... and waited...

He released, and the arrow flew true.

Shiro could tell from the moment it hit that the animal wouldn’t need chasing.  It bolted into the cover of trees, eyes wide with shock, but Shiro simply followed at a walk, Keith along behind him.  Minutes later, they found the corpse, still warm, the clean shot through the lungs bringing it down as humanely as possible, even more so than if they had been wolves.

“Good job, Keith,” Shiro breathed, kneeling to thank the deer, then beginning the process of field dressing.  Keith had had enough practice with that that Shiro was comfortable helping him with it, and as they broke down the carcass, removing the entrails and the skin and hanging it to drain, Shiro continued to steal glances at Keith, smiling faintly at the serious, intent expression on his face.

Once they finished, Shiro cleaned his knife, stepping away to admire their handiwork.  The melancholy from taking another life lingered, as it always did, but wolves couldn’t survive without it, and he needed to feed his pack.  Sheathing the knife, he tilted his head back and let out a howl.

Even in human form, he had enough practice with pack communication that he managed to pitch it perfectly, letting the others know that they had succeeded in hunting game.  As well, the noise, combined with their scent, should keep scavengers away from the meat until the rest of the pack found their way over to bring it home.

Meanwhile, Shiro fully intended on taking advantage of the nearby stream to take a bath.

“Thank god,” Keith sighed, relief audible in his voice.  “I’m gross.”  Without another word, he peeled off his pants, wading forward into the chilly water.

Shiro tried not to stare as he undressed as well, following, shivering slightly, but the temperature was worth it to clean all of the blood and juices off of himself.  He let out a little shudder as the stream swept them away, and he closed his eyes and sank down up to his neck.

After simply letting himself soak for a while, he heard a splashing next to him.  When he opened his eyes, Keith’s abdomen hovered mere inches in front of his face.

Shiro cleared his throat, quickly standing and taking a step back.  The muscles there really were well-defined, something he had noticed quite some time ago, thanks to Keith’s refusal to wear a shirt most of the time.  The dusting of dark hair that stuck to his skin and trailed down into the water didn’t help much, either.

He yanked his attention away from the muscles of Keith’s form, instead focusing on his face.  Not much better—or just as good, which was the problem—but he could focus this way.  He couldn’t allow himself those thoughts, not as a leader, not when Keith relied on him so heavily.  Not while he was still recovering.  If Shiro so much as put the thought into his mind, Keith would go along far too easily for Shiro to be comfortable.

“What?” Keith asked as he took in Shiro’s undoubtedly odd expression, stepping closer.  Shiro held his ground, not wanting Keith to think he was being avoided, but he could feel the color rising on his cheeks at the very wet, very naked form so very close to him.

“Nothing,” Shiro managed, looking away.  “Did you need something?”

“Yes,” Keith replied, matter-of-fact.  “I was wondering something.  When you look at me, you smell—”

“Okay, that’s enough questions for now,” Shiro blurted, turning deliberately away.  “We should probably start to think about getting back, yeah?”

“But—”

“I want to see if the pack needs any more help.  There’s a lot to do while we prepare for winter.”

Shiro expected to hear further arguing but when he glanced towards Keith, all he saw was the slight frown of his determined expression that Shiro was so familiar with by now.  He could almost imagine Keith thinking, _Patience yields focus._

With a cautious nod, Shiro stepped out of the stream, grabbed his clothes, and quickly fled for the camp.

—

The full moon rose three days later.

The night before had been antsy for everyone.  Most of them had grown used to it by now; Pidge had a little bit of trouble keeping control of her shape, but she didn’t have any pressing reason to remain in human form, and Matt helped calm her when needed, so the only damage was a few bits of shredded clothing.  Keith had kept perfect control, not even trying to fight Shiro to get free at any point during the night.  Tossing and turning, yes, but Shiro had high hopes that this moon would pass without incident.

Unlike Keith, those with more control over their shapes decided to take the opportunity to willingly shift into their wolf forms and go for a run through the night, possibly even hunt: the pack could always use more food.  Led by Thace and Ulaz, several others set off into the forest, high on the thrill of just _being._

Keith, rigid next to Shiro, watched them go with an expression of raw longing that nearly killed him.  Shiro wanted to draw him in, tuck his head under Shiro’s chin, murmur to him that it would be all right.  That Keith would be able to join them soon, and that Shiro would come too, and they would all be a pack together.

But... he couldn’t.  He had to be cautious.  Had to—

Keith caught his wrist and his attention, drawing Shiro towards him, then over to the area where they had made their bed that night.  Every line of muscle within him seemed to be drawn taut, and when, for just a moment, Shiro hesitated, Keith simply steeled himself, clearly prepared to drag Shiro if he needed.

Shiro went along after that.

“Sit,” Keith ordered, and though his eyes met Shiro’s at first, they quickly slid away.  “Please.”

At the request, Shiro knelt, settling on the mattress, as they had so many times before.  Keith sank after him, turned to watch Shiro for a few moments, furrowed brow making it clear that he was battling with... something.

A brief flicker of expression as Keith seemed to make up his mind was the only warning Shiro got before Keith lunged.  Not expecting an attack, especially not from someone so close, Shiro found himself completely caught off-guard, unable to defend as he was shoved onto his back, one of Keith’s hands pressed into the mattress on each side of his face.  Though Keith hadn’t pinned him or crawled on top, he was sprawled at a slight angle that left the outsides of their hips pressed together, Keith twisted to loom over Shiro.

And their faces were suddenly very, very close.

“K-Keith,” Shiro managed to croak.  “What’s—”

“You want this, don’t you?”  Keith’s voice was hoarser than usual, his dark purple eyes burning into Shiro’s with an intensity that left Shiro’s stomach doing backflips.  “You want this just as much as I do.  You want _me._  You haven’t chosen, not before, not _yet_ , but I could be good.  I _would_ be good!”

Shiro could feel his mouth drying further with every word.  Any hopes that this had been some odd quirk, a mistake made on Keith’s end and that he didn’t realize exactly how this could appear, shriveled up with it.

He swallowed thickly, sliding himself back a little, giving himself room to lever up slightly so he wasn’t simply lying on his back, so he could meet Keith’s eyes at almost an equal level.

“It’s... it’s not that simple, Keith.  I know you’re... you’re loyal to me.  And I respect that.  I admire that.  I _appreciate_ that.  But I know that means you would do anything I asked of you.”

“Yes,” Keith replied simply, eyes still burning into Shiro’s.

“So I... I couldn’t ask this of you.  You know.  For...”  He waved his hand vaguely, hoping his meaning was clear enough, but not holding out much hope.

“You want me to be your mate, but you can’t ask because you’re worried I’ll say yes, even if I didn’t want to be.”

Shiro blinked at the simplicity of the sentence, summing it all up so succinctly.  “Well, I mean, yeah.  But it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Why?”  Keith drew back a little.  “That isn’t complicated.  Stupid, but not complicated.”

Shiro sputtered, drawing himself up a little further, an indignant frown crossing his features.  “It isn’t _stupid._  And it’s complicated because... because I don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes.  Now that you know.”

“No.”  Keith honest to goodness rolled his eyes.  “Not complicated, because I don’t want to say no.  I know I can.  I wanted you to ask since the day I met you.”  He leveled his eyes at Shiro, a haughty cant to his chin.  “And you’ve been worrying without even talking to me about it.”  Keith nodded, once, firmly.  “Stupid.”

Shiro opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to think of some way to reply.  He still didn’t think that his concern had been _stupid_ , but put in Keith’s blunt and candid words...

Now that he had all the relevant information, it did seem a little... unnecessary.

His eyes flicked back up to Keith’s, who hadn’t moved.

“So?” Keith demanded.  “You want, and I want.  Waiting longer is _definitely_ stupid.”

Sensing more hesitation, Keith continued.  “Shiro,” he pleaded, a note of desperation working into his voice, and Shiro’s eyebrows shot up, unused to the show of vulnerability.  “Don’t... don’t make me wait any longer.”  He pressed forward, closer to Shiro, and Shiro caught the gleam of longing hidden in his expression.  He knew it well, felt it himself, the near-irresistible pull of the full moon to lose yourself, give in to everything you’ve ever wanted, run and hunt and fight and fuck and be _free._  “Don’t make me spend tonight—the moon, Shiro, please, I need to— _we_ need to do _something_ —!”

Keith had pulled so close that their breaths now mingled, and they watched each other wordlessly for a few moments.

A sharp inhalation, and their lips met with such suddenness and desperation on both ends that Shiro had no idea who had initiated.  He kissed back with a ferocity, tasting the sweetness of Keith’s lips, matching every bit of urgency with his own.  He’d never done this before, not like this, and the pure ecstasy of it left him near-certain that he could never resist for this long again, and positive that he would remember it forever.

Keith’s lithe, warm form pressed up against him, their arms sliding around each other, Keith licking longingly into Shiro’s mouth even as Shiro’s tongue tangled with his.  At the sudden weight of Keith on top of him, the sensation of a thigh being flung over his hips, Shiro let out a groan, gripping tighter, pulling closer.  He ran his fingers up over Keith’s shoulders, burying them in his soft hair, holding the back of his head as they kissed fiercely.

Nails dug into Shiro’s shoulders, gripped, pulled down his back, and Shiro felt the unmistakable sensation of inhuman claws digging in as they shredded the back of his shirt and scraped at the skin with a delightful mix of pleasure-pain.

His back slammed against the mattress, hard, and as they came together, Shiro seized every moment and sensation to hold in his memory, forever.

—

When he woke, he was cold.

Shiro had spent the past few months waking up to Keith’s warm form next to him, without fail, so its absence struck him keenly in the chest.  He pushed himself to a sitting position, looking around frantically, but Keith was nowhere in sight.  The full moon illuminated the clearing around him: empty.  The others had yet to return, and Keith...

Gone.

He shifted effortlessly into his wolf shape, and as he swiftly stood, he caught what he had feared: the scent of Keith, also a wolf, fresh and lingering.

Had it been the clothes?  Something so simple, lost; had Shiro been the cause of his—

And then he caught the presence within his pack-sense.  Without hesitation, he scrambled back up the hill he had sat upon earlier that evening, praying that he wouldn’t be too late, praying that Keith wasn’t running too fast, praying—

When he reached the apex, the sight of a pale, human form sitting on the grass left him skidding to a halt.

Keith, leaning back, arms propped behind him as he basked underneath the moonlight, turned his head from where he had been watching the sky.  He tilted his head at Shiro, inquiring, but said nothing.

As Shiro stepped closer, he changed back as well, paws turning to bare feet in the grass.

“Why didn’t you run?” he breathed, not daring to move once he had reached Keith.

Keith simply tilted his head further, watching him, but it was several moments before he responded.

“I knew you didn’t want me to,” he replied, voice quiet.  “And I want to stay with you.”

Exhaling, Shiro sank to his knees, unable to resist wrapping his arms around Keith’s shoulders.  Keith leaned into him obligingly, but Shiro got the distinct impression that he was only doing it to assuage Shiro and found the entire affair rather silly.

“I’m glad you do,” Shiro murmured, pounding heart beginning to settle, falling back into the rhythm that it shared with the rest of the pack—with Keith. Keith, who could beat him at cards, who would safeguard the pack, who wanted to stay.

Keith turned his head, tipping his face up for a kiss.  Shrio obliged, then pulled him to his feet.  At Keith’s questioning look, Shiro shot him a wolfish grin.

“Let’s go for a run,” he whispered, before dropping onto four feet.

Keith’s delighted yip echoed after him as he streaked away under the moonlight.


End file.
